


The Strange Happenings of Harry Lestrange

by StardustGay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby Harry, Bottom Harry, Childhood, Dark Harry, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Harry is a Little Shit, Harry is a Tease, M/M, Murder, Possessive Tom Riddle, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Sane Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Sane Tom Riddle, Sane Voldemort, Seer Luna Lovegood, Slytherin Harry Potter, Torture, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustGay/pseuds/StardustGay
Summary: Bellatrix's greatest wish had always been a child, and Lord Voldemort gifts her Harry Potter to raise, changing the outcome of the war drastically. Halloween night the Potter family died, the Lestrange heir was born, and a new champion of the light was chosen.Harry Lestrange was adored by his House, his Family, and the Death Eaters. But being the Dark Lord's favorite is far sweeter, and Harry was desperately waiting the day he may take his Lord's mark and fight by his side. But before all that can happen he has to survive being 16, an age of hidden truths, sudden responsibilities, rising tensions, and dangerous love.16 is an age of self discovery, but Harry may not even know who he is.





	1. The Gift of a Child

**Author's Note:**

> Many will believe many of the Characters are OOC, but I believe that before over a decade of Azkaban, they were probably saner. Voldemort is OOC, only because he stops at three horocruxes in this story. Any other complaints or questions, feel free to leave a comment so we can discuss.

It was dark and cold, only flickering candlelight illuminating the large stone room. Silence was heavy throughout the room, only broken by the shaking breaths of a woman, kneeling on the floor in front of a throne. She was dressed in dark robes, on her hands and knees on the cold stone floor. She was bent so far over her forehead was on the ground, though her face was covered by wild black curls that flew around with no regards to gravity. The woman trembled, pale hands clenched into fists and body wracked with heavy breathing.

"Please..My Lord. All I ask is the child. I beg of you!" She pleaded, desperation cracking her voice even as she attempted to remain polite. Her Lord stared impassively down at her, regal and monsterous in his throne. Inhuman red eyes watched her form, serpentine face rested on a fist of long, spindly fingers.

"Why should I trust you with a child, prophesied to bring my end? Does your Lord mean so _little_ to you you would beg him to not only spare the child ment to _kill him_ , but raise it under his roof?" The man spoke, cold voice hissing at her. The woman looked up, revealing a beautiful face full of worship and agony.

"My Lord, my greatest wish is a child. A piece of me is missing and it _aches_. The boy will not be a threat, raised with our beliefs and to worship you as I do. It says only that he had the power to do so, suggesting his path is not chosen. Imagine, My Lord, that power on our side?" She inisted, still trembling with desire. There was silence, lighting her nerves with fear as she prepared to be denied and punished.

"So be it. You have been my most loyal follower for years, and you deserve a reward. I will bring the boy to you to raise, on the condition that if he becomes a threat to me he will be killed. Do not disappoint me."

She sobbed with relief, crawling forward to once again press her forehead to the ground. Her merciful, kind Lord! "Thank you thank you thank you, My Lord!"

The demon of a man leaned forward, still emotionless and cold. His fingers tapped a rhythm into the arm of the throne. "You realize that you will be excused from raids and danger until the child is old enough to care for itself? I will not raise the child should harm befall you."

"Of course my Lord, anything you wish. I am forever indebted to you!" She cried.

"Go inform your husband and begin preparations, your son will be here within a week." Her Lord dismissed, and the woman scurried to her feet and out of the room, beaming. Bellatrix Lestrange hurried down the halls and started making plans for her new baby. She finally had a child!

 

* * *

   
Her Lord came to her on Samhain reeking of smoke and holding a crying bundle, looking severely displeased. He shoved her baby into her arms and stalked off, hissing about insolent children and lungs. Bella barely noticed, staring awed down at the beautiful baby. He had quieted when she held him, gazing up at her with intelligent eyes as green as a jewel, chubby, light brown skin ruddy with pink and petal lips open, revealing a single white tooth. He had a whisp of hair as black as a chalkboard, and his tiny hands reached up and clasped one of her wayward curls. She cooed, gazing lovingly down at her darling. Her Harry.

She brought him to her husband, Rodolphus, alight with joy. The man paused in his paperwork, looking up at his wife with curiosity. He was a tall, thin man with a mess of wavy dark brown hair and intense brown eyes, his thin face ended in a dark goatee.

"Is this the child?" He asked, not cruelly but lacking Bella's excitement.

" _Our_ child!" Bella insisted, beforing adding in a sweeter voice, "Our Harry." She gazed down at the baby in delight, and her husband stood, walking over to the two.

"You're keeping his name?" He asked, brushing the blanket away from his son's face.

"Only his first. I know we agreed on Adrian Cygnus if it was a boy, but he looks like a Harry doesn't he?" She asked, gazing up at her husband. Harry giggled in her arms, a chubby hand reaching up in attempts to touch Rodolphus. He smiled, only a slight thing but genuine all the same.

"He does. Harry Adrian Lestrange." He brushed a finger across Harry's soft cheek, the baby immedietly grabbing onto it. "We'll have to blood adopt him, I can tell he'll have the Potter features and we don't want anyone to try and take him."

Bella hissed, face contorting in anger and clutching Harry closer at the thought. Rodolphus ran a hand soothingly up and down her arm, silently relaxing her grip.

"I won't let that happen. But don't you want him to look like us?"

She nodded, absentmindedly rocking her baby. "I'll contact Boneaxe, and we'll do the ritual tomorrow. But for now it's late, would you like to help put Harry to bed?"

He shook his head. "I've too much work to do, I'll help tomorrow though."

"Don't be too late to bed." She chastised him, already heading out of the office.

Though this was technically a Lestrange estate, husband and wife had been pleased to gift it to their Lord, who mercifully allowed them to stay there. Rodolphus's office was in the one floor only for them, only a walk away from their bedroom and Harry's new room.

It was painted a deep purple, almost black when only illuminated by the moonlight from the large windows. When she walked in the charmed ceiling activated, twinkling stars and glowing planet lights travelling slowely across it. Harry's crib sat in the center, a gothic Victorian style made of dark wood and stuffed with the softest white bed and a soft green blanket. The floor was a dark wood, and the room was filled with stuffed animals and blocks and every toy imaginable. A large bookcase was stuffed to the brim, and a black metal rocking chair sat next to the crib.

Bella sat Harry down on a charmed mat, taking the blanket from him and setting it aside. Her boy was dressed in red pajamas with a witch hat on it, and she wrinkles her nose. She summoned new pajamas from the wardrobe, changing the obnoxious clothes for a navy blue onsie, snapping the buttons with a pleased look on her face. She then picks him back up and sat down in the rocking chair, Harry watching her with curious eyes as she began to sing.

 

* * *

 

  
"Madame Lestrange, this really isn't necessary. Goblins care little about wizard affairs, your son is safe." A disgruntled Boneaxe promised, more exasperated than anything as he hung upside down with a wand in his face. He was long used to Madame Lestrange, as he also handled the Black accounts. Years and Years of dealing with Black's made Boneaxe sure that the Black Madness was more than just a myth.

Bella relaxed, gently putting him down. Rodolphus stood behind her watching with faint amusement, holding Harry who was chewing on a stuffed Nandu and watching the proceedings with tired eyes.

"This isn't going to hurt my darling is it?" Bella asked, sounding worried. Boneaxe shook his head.

"No more than the usual discomfort Madame. Some pain is unavoidable though, as his DNA and magical core rearange and expand."

Bella looked ready to argue when her husband cut in. "A little pain builds character, my love. Let's hurry this up, Harry is going to get hungry soon."

The baby was placed in the center of a casting circle, much to his displeasure. Bellatrix looked ready to scoop him up, but was held back. The candles lit around Harry, drawing a gasp from the boy as he stared wide eyed. The candles were spelled so he couldn't touch them, thankfully.

Bella and Rodolphus sliced open their forearms, each pouring blood into a stone bowl. Boneaxe took them and started chanting in goblin, circling around Harry. He poured Bella's bowl of blood over the baby's head, staining his skin and the white ritual clothes a deep red.

"Blood of the mother, accept your son and he will accept you." The goblin toned lowely, ignoring the way Harry's blood stained face scrunched up as if to start to wail. He circled again, this time pouring Rodolphus's blood, Harry nearly fully coated red now and hiccuping with tears.

"Blood of the father, accept your son and he will accept you." Boneaxe said, before reaching inside the circle and grabbing Harry's arm. He gently sliced both hands, though the child squirmed and cried.

"Blood of the child, spilt to welcome the new and fade the old. Accept your new parents and accept your new life."

Boneaxe hurried back and pointedly distanced from Bella as the baby began to scream, the blood poured on him being sucked into the cuts on his hand like a reverse fountain. Harry writhed in pain, screams of agony and terror echoing in the room. It only lasted a minute, before the baby went still and quiet.

Bella rushed forward, picking up her son and cooing at him. Motherly anger pumped through her, but was weakened by seeing the slight changes. Harry's hair was darker now, and soft and curly instead of coarse and straight. His skin was pale as porcelain instead of brown, and he was slighter, delicate. But when his eyes, shiny with twars, opened to look at his mother, Bella was pleased to find them still green. Now even more vibrant, they reminded her of the killing curse flashing through the night.

"Is he all right?" Rodolphus asked, wrapping his arms around the both of them. Bella just nodded, overcome with happiness and tears. Her husband missed her softly on the cheek, whispering, "He's beautiful."

They stood there for a few minutes, until he had to leave to start settling the paperwork for Harry. She left the room without a word, skirts billowing behind her and focus completely on her beloved. She decided, on the way to his room, that while Harry Potter was born in July, Harry Lestrange was born on October 31st. A truely magical night indeed.

"Is a party really necessary?" Rodolphus asked that night, laughing at his wife's determined face. They were laying on bed, ready for the night, Rodolphus flipping through a worn book while Bellatrix furiously wrote letters.

"Our son will only have the best! We have plenty of money, and we have to introduce him to our friends and colleagues soon!" She said firmly, not even looking up. Her hair was barely contained in a bun, her sleeping robes slipping down her slender shoulder. Rodolphus looked at her lovingly, soul at rest for the first time since they decided to have a family years ago.

"Would you like some help?" He asked. She beamed at him.

"Would you order the cake and decorations? As well as inform our Lord?" She asked, and seeing his displeasure quickly distracted him with a kiss.

 

* * *

 

The party was held in their private lounge room, only family and friends loitering around. A stack of presents sat in one corner, a giant cake in another. Guests were avoiding the cake, as the candles looked like bombs and none of them would put it past the Lestrange's.

Harry sat on a play mat near the couches, dressed in expensive slacks and a buttoned up shirt, little feet covered in shoes and tapping against the mat as he played with his magic blocks that shifted color when he tapped them, and would say the letter when the charm was switched on. He was delighted, waving at everyone who greeted him.

"Sister. May I give my congratulations on becoming a mother. I'm so happy for you." Narcissa greeted Bellatrix, holding baby Draco in one arm and reaching out to place the other on her sister's shoulder. Bella was positively glowing, and nearly threw herself at her sister who laughed and attempted to keep her son from being squished. Draco, already spoiled, did not like this one little bit and made his displeasure clear. Bella separated from her sister and cooed, leaning down to pinch Draco's cheeks, who squished his face and batted at her hand with his tiny fists.

"If you'd like you can put him with Harry. I'm sure my baby would love to meet his cousin." Bella suggested, looking eager. Narcissa smiled and agreed, walking gracefully over to the mat and lowering Draco down on it. She patted his head, before straightening.

Harry looked overjoyed to have a friend, and made a squealing noise that drew Draco's attention. Draco, also dressed in fine clothing with a faint tuff of nearly white hair in his head, scrutinized Harry for a solid minute before deciding him acceptable. Draco clumsily got to his feet and waddled over to Harry, plopping down next to the boy. Harry made a delighted noise and patted Draco's knee, before offering him a blue 'X' block. Draco graciously accepted.

"Excuse me, but I was wondering if I could put my Pansy in as well?" A short, pug faced woman asked. She seemed annoying, but Bella was in far too good a mood and allowed it.

Pansy was one as well, with dark hair and her mothers unfortunate nose. She was wearing a soft pink dress riddled with lace, and refused to approach the boys until Harry offered her his stuffed unicorn.

The party was a hit, and Harry helped open dozens of toys and clothes and books. He enjoyed his cake thoroughly, Bella got a picture, and made fast friends with his cousin and Pansy. By the time most of the guests were leaving, Harry was sleepily resting his head against her collarbone, chewing on his fingers. Most of the guests had left, when Bella heard a nasty man speak.

"Its surprising we haven't met your..son..before tonight. Surely you would have made his birth announcements? Or stopped going on raids while pregnant?" The tall, snobby man paused, looking down his nose at her. "You were pregnant, weren't you?"

The next thing he knew a wand was stabbing into the side of his neck, her face very close to his and noticably seething. "I don't like what you're implying. Harry is 100% Lestrange, and _I'm going to show you what Lestrange's are capable of you bastard_!" She hissed, spit hitting his face. Then he was in the floor, twitching and shouting in agony. Bella cackled as she watched, keeping her wand firmly on the greasy, self-important person.

Harry, still in her arms, watched curiously as the man shrieked and seized on the ground, crying and scratching at the ground. He just watched, fingers in his mouth, until his mother was done.

 

* * *

 

Voldemort stared at the child, sitting innocently on his desk and glaring furiously at him. His eye twitched, as he again reached foreward to pick the child up only for it to start its unholy shrieking. He let out a frustrated breath, slamming his hands back down on the desk away from the child. It didn't even flinch, just continued glaring with all the rage in its tiny body. Taking a deep breath he again reached forward, with the same result. He hollared, spinning on heel with a dramatic flourish of his robes and starting to pace. It was late, a week after the party, and Voldemort had been attempting to touch the child every day since then. The child hated him, making as much noise as the night he had brought him home.

"Perhaps it's another bad day for him, My Lord." Bella said sheepishly from where she was standing. Her head was bowed in respect, hands clasped and fidgeting nervously.

"There is no way he's had _seven bad days_ in a row." Voldemort said coldly, scowling.

Bella took a deep breath, and nervously said, "My Lord, if I might offer a possibility?"

He waved her on, still pacing quickly while the child followed him with dark eyes.

"Well…perhaps it's your, uh, _appearence_." She suggested, "While it is good for intimidation and fear, children, well, they just don't like it."

She fearfully watched as her Lord paused and stared at her with a dark expression for a moment, before storming out of the room. She grabbed Harry with shaking arms and scolded him. "You're a trouble baby, you are. What will Mother do with you?"

Harry just giggled and blew a spit bubble.

The next day, while Bella and Harry sat in Harry's room, her Lord stormed in and snatched Harry up. Gone, was his hellish, snake-like appearance. It was replaced with a devilishly handsome man, with sharp, chiseled features and a head full of thick black hair that waved around his ears. Her Lord still wore his dark, tattered robes and was just as tall, but while he was still pale he was flushed with color in his cheeks and shapely lips, intense red eyes more human.

Bella gaped from where she was knitting, the rocking chair ceasing it's movement. There was a moment of stillness between the Dark Lord and her son, before Harry's face split into a grin and he screetched happilly, small hands patting at her Lord's chest. Voldemort smiled smugly, looking pleased with himself as he gently bounced Harry on his hip.

"That's a good boy." He said, voice no longer a raspy, high pitched hiss. It was low and deep, a rich rumble that admittedly brought a blush to Bella's cheeks even in her shocked state. Her Lord produced a large stuffed snake from his robe, holding it out to Harry who quickly smushed it to his chest.

"This is a basilisk Harry, the most beautiful snake in the world. Her name is Tanith, and I hope you enjoy your present." Voldemort explained patiently, still looking far too pleased with himself for winning over a baby. Harry looked at him in awe, and cried, "Volmort!"

Bella gasped, shock cut short as joy bloomed inside of her. She was at their side's in a flash, cooing.

"That was his first word!"

Voldemort looked down at the baby in surprise, frozen as the baby joyfully repeats his butchered name. Something warm curls within him, just as unexplainable as his overwhelming need to have the child like him, no matter the cost.

He cleared his throat and passed the child to his mother, bidding a hasty farewell and gliding out of the bedroom. Harry continued crushing the gift in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter of child Harry before Hogwarts


	2. The Years Go By (And By)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Crap guys! This literally blew up like crazy, I'm both flattered and scared. The first chapter was kinda a sour of the moment thing with almost nothing plotted out beyond it, so this chapter has more child shenanigans as Harry grows up, I hope you all like it. Feel free to leave comments, I love hearing from you and I really like hearing which parts you enjoyed and found funny. Next chapter will deal with Harry getting his letter and shopping, but I really doubt I'm going to write the first few years. I'm planning on skipping straight to his 5th or 6th year if you guys don't mind.

At three, Harry was undoubtedly a Lestrange. His room was now a dark blue, with moving silhouettes of a barren forest covering them. Every so often, eyes blinked out from the painting, and on full moons a werewolf stalked the walls. His bed was still gothic Victorian, but older and more mature, and the only thing that remained was the rocking chair.

Bella sat in it, already in her sleep robes, with Harry on her lap. She was rocking slowely, the chair creeking ominously as she sang. A doll with a toy knife in it laid by her feet, and something darted past her on the wall. Harry yawned sleepily, gazing up at her lovingly.

 _Dont ever laugh_  
_As a Hearse goes by_  
_For you may be the next to die_  
_They wrap you up_  
_In a big white sheet_  
_From your head down to your feet_  
_They put you in a big black box_  
_And cover you up with dirt and rocks_

Harry giggled, and Bella poked his nose. Her mother had sung this to her when she had trouble sleeping, and Harry just loved it.

 _And all goes well_  
_For about a week_  
_And then your coffin begins to leak_  
_And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out_  
_The worms play pinochle on your snout_  
_They eat your eyes, they eat your noes_  
_They eat the jelly between your toes_  
_A big green worm with rolling eyes_  
_Crawls in your stomach and out your eyes_  
_Your stomach turns a slimy green_  
_And puss comes out like whipping cream_  
_You spread it on a slice of bread_  
_And thats what you eat when you're dead_

Her baby yawned again, and whispered, "There are worms in my brain." Bella just laughed and kissed his forehead, standing up and carrying him to his bed.

"Not yet, Sweetheart. You aren't dead yet. But you should be asleep."

At four, Harry proved to be a curious boy. He listened to his Mother with rapt attention, and wandered after anyone who would let him. He sat on his Father's lap quietly for ages, watching him write and listening to him explain what he was doing. Uncle Rabastian took him around the Manor on his shoulders, showing Harry spells and telling Harry jokes. Voldemort taught him manners, unknowingly, as Harry's favorite thing to do was follow behind the Lord, mimicking his actions. His Mother thought it was the cutest, and had many pictures. His Father was just thankful their Lord allowed it.  
Harry was excellent at getting away from his caretakers, however, and it tended to get him into trouble.

* * *

 

Severus Snape glided down the hall, scowling. The Dark Lord had requested a difficult potion, one that required him to leave his post at the school and come all the way to the Lestrange Manor to brew. Dumbledore would likely demand a report of everything he saw, and he regretted going to the old man more everyday. His only relief was he wasn't expected to go to most of the Order meetings, and deal with those half-wits.

Years of being a Death Eater had honed his senses to the point where he could sense danger before he could see it. So when he noticed someone following him, he was quick to pull out his wand and spin to face them. That's when he came knee to face with a child.

The boy was young, still padded in baby fat and dragging a stuffed snake. He was obviously pureblood, wearing fine clothing and coated in protective spells, his wild curly black hair obviously attempted to be tamed. Snape sneered down at the child, though the wide green eyes made his heart race. They reminded him of Lily, though hers were darker and didn't glow eerily.

"What do you think you are doing? Where is your mother?" Snape asked, though he doubted he'd get an answer. Sure enough, the disgusting toddler just blinked at him and asked,

"What you doin?"

"I am going to brew a potion. So you should go do whatever children do." He said rudely, turning and continuing on his way. It was foolish of him to think it was over.

A small tugging on his robe let him know his little tagalong was still there. "I like potions."

Snape glared at the little monster, who's chubby hand was grasping his robe and who's face was looking up at him with a toothy smile.

"I doubt you even understand what potions are. Run along now."

But the child didn't leave. "Potions are like water, but magic. Mother says they are very hard, and she won't teach me till I'm 8." The boy said, face serious and tone wise. Snape sighed.

"And where is your mother?"

"With our Lord." Damn.

"Your father? Where is he?" Snape tried.

"Out." Double damn. Snape couldn't in good concious leave a young child unattended, not when the likes of Fenrir and such were walking about. He gave a heavy sigh.

"Would you like to accompany me while I brew?" He tried to come across child friendly but ended up more like he had a bad taste in his mouth. The child didn't seem to care, eagerly nodding hard enough that his ink hair flopped on his forehead. It was revoltingly endearing. Snape led the toddler down into his lab, ignoring the way the child had to hurry after him but steading him absent mindedly when the child tripped and stumbled. Inside the dimly lit, cold room, Snape drew up a stool next to his work station and firmly sat the child down, glaring sternly.

"Do not move from this chair, sit quietly, do not touch anything. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir!" The child toned, wiggling in place. Snape gave him a suspicious look and sat down in front of his cauldron, beginning to prepare his ingredients. He placed moonstone in a mortar and began to grind it into a powder. The child watched in fascination, and they fell into easy company.

It was nearly half an hour later when Narcissa Malfoy burst in, holding her son's hand and looking frantic. When she caught sight of the child she rushed forward, checking him for injuries.

"Harry, you know better to run off like that!" She scolded, making him come down from his seat. She turned to Snape. "Thank you Severus, Harry has a bad habit of sneaking away."

"Harry?" He asked, heart thumping again. This child who reminded him of Lily but looked little like her or her husband, with the same name as their son…

"Harry Lestrange, meet Severus Snape. He's Draco's godfather and a professor." Narcissa introduced. Harry waved, grinning. He had taken Draco's hand, who looked pleased. And then they were off, leaving Snape confused and curious.

* * *

 

  
At five, Harry met Nagini. His stuffed basilisk was his most prized possession, and his love for snakes transfered over to the real thing. Nagini instantly loved him, as people tended to do, but they were all stunned silent when her hissing was returned.

Harry sat on the floor, neatly dressed and bouncing with joy as Nagini wrapped around him tenderly, hissing in his ear.

_"Young hatchling lookss like Masster. But cuter. I am going to keep you, I think."_

Voldemort, watching on with arms crossed, chuckled. _"I think his Mother would have a problem with that."_ He hissed, red eyes watching her body to make sure she didn't accidentally squeeze too tight.

Nagini made the equivalent of a put out huff, resting her scaled head on the boys shoulder. Harry gently stroked her scales, looking awed.

 _"But he'ss sso adorable!"_ Nagini complained.

Harry blushed, drawing everyone's attention towards him, and replied, _"Thank you! You can be my snake mom, if you wanna."_

There was silence, all adults frozen in shock and disbelief. Voldemort stared at him with his mouth hanging open in shock, it didnt look like he was breathing. Nagini had no such problems, perking up and wrapping tighter, cooing about her hatchling being so smart and kind.

His Father had scooped him up, to the displeasure of Nagini, and hurried him off to the Potion's Master. Harry shouldn't be able to speak Parsletongue.

They found that all the Black blood -as it turned out Sirius Black has blood adopted the boy as soon as it was possible- and the Lestrange blood activated the dormant ability in the Potter line, which was so distantly related to a Slytherin that they hadn't had the ability in hundreds of years. But with enough pureblood in him, as well as the fresh magic gifted to him by his birth mother, Harry had developed the ability. Bella was delighted, Rodolphus was weary thinking of how much trouble the boy was, and Voldemort was...curious.

* * *

 

At seven, Harry proved to be the trouble his Mother had accused him of all those years ago. He created chaos with the Death Eaters, ranging from simple pranks like tripping to thought out plans like convincing Lord Nott that Madame Parkinson was in love with him. He was far too charming for his own good, and used that to his advantage. He convinced a house elf to stick all the statues and vases to the ceiling, switched all his father's black ink with glittery pink, and used his first controlled burst of magic to turn his mothers skin green and her hair a vibrant purple. She strutted around proudly all day, clashing horribly.

At seven, Harry also took up a habit of spending time with Mister Flint, who despite his Death Eater status took care of the garden, and his son Marcus who was twelve. Harry adored the garden and loved to help out, much to his friends Draco and Pansy's confusion. There was something about having his hands in the dirt, feeling his magic connect to the plants, that came second only to reading.

"Careful there, Harry. That plants still a baby, like you." Marcus teased, his grin displaying his large teeth. Harry ignored him, putting the little flower in it's home with as much care as he could.

"Come on, you were telling me about Quidditch." Harry prompted, when Marcus didn't seem to be continuing. The older boy laughed, and was about to start when he spotted two figures heading towards them. Draco and Pansy were the spitting image of pureblood children, neat and graceful as they came to a stop by their messy friend. Draco scowled at the dirt on Harry, while Pansy was hiding behind him at the sight of Marcus.

"Surely you've spent enough time out in the filth today? Pansy wishes to see your new puppet stand." Draco asked, looking displeased. Harry stood and brushed off his clothes, only coming up to Draco's chin.

"I like the garden, Draco. It's pretty and I like to plant." Harry argued, but smiled at Pansy. "We can go in though."

In his room the two immedietly sat in front of the large, ordinate puppet theater. Harry followed at a slower pace, picking up a few stray toys and books.  
"What would you like to watch? Mother just added the Grimm fairytale of Cinderella. There are eye pecking crows and dismemberment." Harry said delighted. Pansy seemed to think this over, while Draco looked displeased.

"Are there princesses?" Pansy asked, playing with the elaborate, poofy skirt of her dress. Draco scowled more when Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Wait a minute, I want to watch something else." Draco protested, when Harry plopped down on his other side. The puppets, elaborate little things, started moving across the large stage.

"Quiet Draco." Harry and Pansy said absentmindedly, leading the young boy to cross his arms and pout.

* * *

  
The soft clinking of tableware against plates and bowls only added to Harry's frustration, as he reached for a fork and was again shocked. Bella looked at him reprovingly, and Harry tried again.

Another shock up his arm, something that was becoming annoyingly familiar as his parents taught him table manners. He scowled down at his plate, ignoring the amused looks sent his way from his Lord.

"Harry, I don't understand why this is so hard for you." His mother chastised him, sounding dissapointed. Harry glared at her, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

"I don't understand why you bathe in perfume, but you don't hear me complaining." Harry hissed, causing Bella to give him a suspicious look. The entire table was startled when Voldemort laughed suddenly, watching Harry as he chuckled. Rodolphus abruptly paused in his sentence about the be Bill they're passing, and looked at his son with surprise.

Harry blushed, turning a bright red all the way up to his ears realizing his Lord had heard his muttered comment. His mother realized he had in fact said something rise and smacked his hand harshly with the back of her spoon. Harry yelped, jerking his arm back, and tried to ignore the way his Lord chuckled harder.

* * *

 

Narcissa Malfoy didn't know how she felt about her nephew. At 9, he was a stunningly pretty boy. He had soft, inky black hair that curled innocently, and flawless alabaster skin that pinkened attractively. His lips were plump and effective at pouting, and his small size for his age made him appear far more childish. And his eyes, a startling emerald green that practically glowed under his thick lashes, they captured the attention of everyone around. Overall, Harry entraped those around him with a simple look, and the ease he had with manipulation didn't help.

Harry managed to charm everyone, sweet and kind and thoughtful. Even Severus liked the boy, allowing him to spend hours watching and helping as he brewed. But his sunny personality had shadows deeper than she liked to think about, the Lestrange in him causing him delight over the macabre and joy in violence. The dark intensity in his gaze at times sent shivers down her spine, and she was ashamed to admit she had had nightmares about the child.

It didn't help that her Lord, the great man that he was, had a softspot for Harry. The only soft spot in the man entirely, she was sure.

Harry tugged against her dress, drawing her out of her thoughts and nearly causing her to spill her tea. He looked appropriately apologetic, and held out a drawing to her. When she held it, she felt her heart melt at the childish drawing of her, something he obviously spent a lot of time on.

"Harry this is wonderful, thank you." She said, giving him a smile. The boy blushed and smiled before scurrying back to where he and her son eat drawing on the floor. She brushed a finger against the crayon on the page, and pondered the change the boy was certain to bring.

* * *

 

Pansy set the small circular table, the delicate floral teacups (charmed unbreakable of course) and plates at each chair set down painstakingly perfect. Little cakes and sandwiches rotated in the center on floating stacked plates, above the matching teapot that steamed.

Harry and Draco sat on her bed attempting to see who could create the most bubbles out of their toy wands, while Daphne watched them with disinterest.

"All done!" Pansy declared, putting her hands on her hips and smiling proudly. Daphne glanced over, and back at the boys, before her face shifted into one of mischief. Pansy, well used to how easily Daphne became bored, perked up in interest.

"It looks great Pansy, but don't you think out guests should match? I mean, how can we have a proper tea party with such sloppy guests?" Daphne asked innocently, glancing at Draco and Harry's casual state of dress.

Draco looked down at his fine quality, grey cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, looking offended. "I am not sloppy! How dare you, wait until my father hears about-"

"I think we should lend them some of your clothes, don't you agree?" Daphne interupted, and both boys pales as Pasy lit up.

It took 20 minutes of struggling, but eventually both boys were in dresses. Draco wore a floor length baby blue one, simple with gold lining and embrodery, and a bit of poof. He had ruby lipgloss smeared on his lips, and he was fuming, satin gloved arms crossed sulkily.

Harry was dressed in a deep, forest green one that swished around his knees and had delicate lace. It poofed out a substantial amount more than Dracos, and had little bows. Matching bows were in his still unruly curls, and his lips were coated in pretty pink lipgloss. He twirled the skirt curiously, lace gloved hands playing with it.

Both girls swooned at how cute the boys looked, and Daphne grinned with glee.

"Well, do you like them?" She asked eagerly.

"It's horrible! I hate this stupid sticky lipgloss and I much prefer pants thank you!" Draco said firmly, looking irrate as usual. He wondered why his friends like to torment him so. He really needed new ones.

Harry shrugged, however. "It's not so bad. I like my normal clothes better, but it's kinda fun." He admitted, admiring the pretty dress and how soft it was against his skin. Pansy squeeled, and shoved them into their seats.

"Tea time! "

* * *

 

At ten, Harry proved to be a natural on a broomstick, and the elation he felt flying rivaled his love of fiction, his love of pranks, and his love of gardening. Draco, ever the negative nancy, took to trying to one up him, determined in being the best seeker despite his preference for playing a chaser. Harry also took to spending time around his favorite people, seeming to understand that in a year he would be leaving home. His mother was delighted, his father happy, Snape was regretfully accepting, and His Lord seemed pleased. Harry didn't understand why. He was old enough now to understand what exactly being his Lord ment, and how he was supposed to treat him. But his Lord never treated Harry like he did his Death Eaters, or even the other children.

Harry just shrugged and accepted it, happy to sneak off into his Lord's office to read quietly in his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Draco and Pansy will flesh out more when they grow up, writing kids is fucking hard. Severus Snape is not a character I actually like (Sorry, but you can't convince me to either) but I find if he's written the right way in fanfictions and redeems himself I can tolerate him. BIG Note: The crossdressing was just a little fun, something I thought would actually happen. However, despite maybe using some lipgloss now and then, I don't plan on Harry doing it again unless you guys want it. I personally like it but I don't want to overfeminize Harry.


	3. Freedom, Bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, I'm off my medication and my attentions been shot. Here's a new chapter, a little shorter than usual but an update all the same.

Harry's ears were filled only with the buzzing constant of bubbling potions, sharp chopping, and steady breathing. His soft hair tickled his cheeks and neck, falling over his bent head as he focused on the potion ingredients in front of him. His knife gleamed as he efficiently sliced and diced, and the motioned lulled him into a state of peace.

He sat across from Severus in his lab, the candlelight low and flickering across the gloomy stone room. They had been there for quite some time, intent on their work. Harry was lucky that Severus had allowed him to help prepare the potion ingredients, as most days the man was in a foul mood and Harry was best to avoid him. But Harry liked Potions, and was glad the Potions Master ever taught him anything, so he was content not to push the gloomy man's boundries like he did most everyone else.

Finishing, he set aside his knife and wiped a bead of sweat from his face, wishing the lab wasn't always so hot. He passed the cutting board to Severus and waited, wondering if there was anything else for him to do.

Eventually Severus looked up at him, after setting the potion in a preservation charm. He looked as content as Harry felt, and Harry always liked him best when he was relaxed like this.

"It's odd having you in here on Thursdays, isn't this the day your Father spends with you?" Severus asked, running a hand through his greased hair. Harry swung his feet, not able to reach the floor sitting in the tall stool.

"Yes, usually. But Father was unable to get out of a meeting with foreign business men, and promised to make it up to me next week." Harry replied, plopping his round cheek into his hand and leaning against the table.

"So you decided to bother me?" He drawled, looking annoyed, though Harry knew it was for appearance. If Severus didn't want him here, he wouldn't be.

"I wanted to brew with you, before I head off to school."

There was something that flashed through his beady eyes, but Harry, not even 11 yet, was unable to identify it. Then he was scowling again, and Harry smiled.

"I almost forgot you were attending school in the fall, must be how short you are."

It was said in a mean way, but Harry let out a tinkling laugh all the same. Draco hated being called short, but Harry didn't think it was a bad thing, that he was lacking. After all, Goblins and House Elves were short, and they had incredible magic. Harry wouldn't mind being taller, around his peer's heights, but he wouldn't mind being short forever either.

"What school at your parents sending you to?" Severus started working on the potion again, stirring and adding the things Harry had just chopped up to the pink mixture. It slowly turned red, and Harry watched in awe.

"Fathers still talking Mother out of homeschooling me, but there were talks of a few schools. Like Hogwarts, you teach there don't you?" Harry asked, staring up at him with curious eyes.

Severus scowled, an obvious yes.

"Perhaps I'll attend there, then we can continue spending time together!" Harry said cheerfully, though there was a twist of mischief to his lips.

"Then it's final, you'll go anywhere OTHER than Hogwarts." He drawled dryly, glaring at the child who only laughed at him, mirth twinkling over his pretty face. He scowled again, turning back to his cauldren.

"You're dismissed, you blithering fool."

Harry stood, looking cheerful all the same. "Of course, sir. I'm aware laughter and joy aren't allowed around you." He teased as he walked towards the door. As he exited, he heard Severus muttering under his breath.

"Damned right it isn't, you brat."

 

* * *

  
Harry clutched the old, worn out book to his chest and knocked on the big black door in front of him. He waited patiently, rocking on his heels for the muffled voice inside.

"Enter."

Voldemort sat regal behind his desk, a book cracked in front of him and his fingers tapping against his desk. He looked deep in thought, his wine colored eyes staring into the distance. Harry silently made his way towards the old fashioned leather couch he always sat and read in. To his surprise, however, his Lord stopped him.

"Come sit, Harry, today we'll play a game of chess."

Harry froze, but almost instantly was making his way towards the desk instead, never even considering saying no. In the second his back was turned the book had changed into a sleek, metal chess board, and Harry was slightly awed by its complex details.

"Of course, my Lord, however I don't know how to play." He admitted, pulling himself into the chair in front of the desk. He set his book off to the side and waited, blinking up at the handsome man. Voldemort hadn't aged a day since Harry was a baby, but Harry was only 11 and didn't pay much mind to things like aging.

"Then I will teach you." His Lord waved away his concerns, and Harry felt relieved his inexperience wouldn't disappoint or anger the Dark Lord.

Harry sat quiet and attentive as he was taught the chess pieces and rules, surprised at how good of a teacher his Lord was. Harry had seen the man lose his temper many times, so the unwaveringly patience he had as he and Harry started to play was a shock. Harry liked it, even if it seemed he was terrible at the game.

"You're starting school soon." A statement, not a question. But Harry answered anyway.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Where are you attending?"

He messed up the rules of the bishops and Voldemort wordlessly corrected him, earning a bright smile from the boy before his face scrunched up in concentration.

"Father wants me to go to Durmstrung, but Mother says if Im going to school it must be at Hogwarts."

Voldemort nodded, but didn't seem pleased with his answer. "And where do you wish to go?"

Harry's face again pouted in thought, as though this was a particularly hard question. "Well, Durmstrung sounds boring…and cold. But Father says that Hogwarts is a light magic school and as a Dark family no one would like me." He seemed put out, peering up at his Lord with bright green eyes. "Where did you go, my Lord?"

Voldemort knocked over Harry's King, but Harry didn't seem upset, leaning forward on the desk as his Lord began to speak, voice low and soothing.

"I went to Hogwarts, and I believe it helped me more than any other school could have, shaped me into the man I am today." He paused, looking intently into Harry's young face, as if looking for something. "Hogwarts would be good for you, but I doubt it will be kind. The Headmaster fights against me, and it's one of the only places in England where I have no control. You will be watched and disliked, that's a fact, but it could mould you into the best you can be."

It was one of the longest things his Lord had ever said to him, and Harry's eyes were wide with awe and worship. He barely breathed, until his Lord vanished the chess set and leaned back, making his dismissal clear.

Harry scurried out of his seat as graceful as he could, and grabbed his book before heading to the exit. As he swung the heavy door open however, his Lord stopped him yet again.

"Do you believe in your Lord, Harry?"

What an odd question, Harry thought, how could he not believe in him. His Lord was the most impressive, amazing, powerful person to walk the earth.

"Of course I do." He answered, not hesitating the slightest, so surprised by the question he didn't remember to use his manners and simply closed the door as soon as he finished answering.

 

* * *

  
Tea whistled in the background, disturbing the peaceful silence around breakfast. His father flipped through the newspaper, while his mother wrote a letter, her reading glasses slipping down her face and her eggs slipping off her fork.

Harry impatiently shifted in his seat, eyes to the ceiling and plate nearly untouched. Finally, when he thought he might go mad, the owls flew in overhead and dropped the mail off in front of those seated. There fat letters land next to his plate and he snatched them up, etiquette out the door as he cheers and jumps out of his seat, letters clasped in hand.

"Mother, May I use the floo to go to Draco's?" He asked quickly, and she shot him an amused look over her glasses.

"Alright, but be home by lunch or you'll regret it."

Harry thanked her so fast he wasn't sure she understood, thundering out of the dinning room and into the sitting room. He grabbed a handful of floo powder, growing it down around his feet and calling out, "Malfoy Manner!"

After a dizzying trip -it never seemed to get better- he stumbled out of the fireplace into Draco's waiting arms. Harry grins up at his friend, brushing himself off and pulling away from his grasp.

"Expecting me?" He teased his friend.

Draco was several inches taller than Harry, with pointy features and his hair slicked tightly back like his father's had been in an old picture they had found. Draco thought he looked older, but Harry secretly thought he looked like a prat.

"I knew you'd run around like a headless erumpent the minute you got your letters, so I came to wait as soon as mine arrived." Draco responded, raising an eyebrow at him. Harry huffed at him, before grabbing more floo powder and calling up Pansy.

The second her face appeared in the flames, she called out, "One moment," And dissapeared. The boys backed up and just as they though, the fire flares up and she came hurrying through. She, like Draco, were well composed despite their noticible excitement, unlike Harry. Draco says it's because Harry's parents spoil him.

Pansy raised her nose at them, letters held tightly in her hands. "Have you gotten yours, then?"

Harry and Draco held up their own collections, and they all ended up on Draco's bed, letters spread out in front of them on the blue silk comforter.

Draco had letters from Beaubuxons, Durmstrung, and Hogwarts just like Harry, but Pansy had 4; from Beaubuxons, Illvermorny, Castelo-bruxo, and Hogwarts. Their letters made a multi colored mess around their knees.

"Mother wants me to go to Beaubuxons, like she did." Pansy informed them, hands clasped in her frilly skirt.

Draco shook his head. "Mother wants me to go there as well, but Father insists on sending me to Durmstrung."

They turned to look at Harry, who was staring down at the plain envelope in front of him, lips twitched in a soft smile.

"I'm going to Hogwarts." He breathed, and surprised noises came from his friends. Dark family's didn't really attend Hogwarts, not since the school loudly stood against their Lord. He looked up at them, green eyes glittering.

"Our Lord went there, and he wants me to go to."

Harry picked up the letter, and with a brief look at eachother Pansy and Draco snatched theirs up too.


	4. Pleased to Meet You (Mind My Warning)

"It's a guarantee, Harry! The idea that we won't get into Slytherin is _l_ _aughable._ " Draco insisted, nose in the air and reeking of pureblood superiority. Harry grinned at how hard Draco tried to imitate his Father, walking slower next to his Mother and Auntie Narcissa while Draco strutted ahead. They all wore their fall cloaks, the boys in casual trousers and button-downs while their mothers were dressing in the silly, complicated dresses that witches of their station were so fond of. Draco's white-blond hair glinted under the dull London sun, and at his expectant look Harry gave an agreeable nod. Draco, satisfied, continued his ranting.

It was a brisk morning in Diagon Alley, the hustle and bustle of the crowd worse than usual as families hunted down school supplies from their lists. Children ran about underfoot, and frazzled parents shouted all around them. Comparatively, the group of four were the picture of grace, unaffected. Their bags floated behind them, Auntie 'Cissa's wand discretely peaking from her sleeve. Harry listened to his best friends chatter halfheartedly, lulled by the voices of the women above him. He doesn't know what they were talking about, but his Mother's passionate voice was a pleasant contrast to the clear steady voice of his Aunt. The bright colors and friendly noise of the Alley was disrupted briefly by the aura seeping out of a large street connected to it. It called out to Harry, and he slowed down to stare into it, watching with fascination as glamoured individuals ducked in and out of run down shops, and as hags stalked the crumbling cobblestone in search of customers. Knockturn Alley. 

His Mother noticed, glancing down at him and smiling fondly, a truly terrifying look on her face. She grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him along to keep him from lagging behind the group. "We can go visit once we finish your school shopping, dear." She promised him, and his face lit up. Bella laughed at the look, delighted in her sons eagerness. Narcissa watched, face tight. Draco barely noticed, still talking about how Crabbe and Goyle had also recieved letters - though he hadn't been sure the idiots had enough wit between the two of them to even be allowed in. The group, in their varying states of distraction, nearly ran into a boy and an old lady coming out of a store. The boy was round and came up to Draco's nose, with dark blond hair that was in a stiff, neat style. The old woman was cranky looking and proud, an imposing figure even dressed in ridiculous plum robes with a hat bursting with feathers on-top of her grey bun. 

Harry recognized them as Longbottom's, but was unsure why a tension built up between the groups, the adults reaching for their wands. He was aware they were a light family, but it seemed ridiculous the way everyone was reacting. Just before spells were sure to start flying, the plump boy sneered at Draco and him, before turning to look up at his Grandmother(?). 

"I'm going to be late to my meeting with Dumbledore if we don't go now." The boy prompted her, and she relaxed, a smug twist to her lips replacing the thin line it had been. Mother's grip on Harry's hand was tight, protective, and she tugged him closer as the duo passed by. A beat goes by, before they continue into the Apothecary.

"Who was that?" Harry asked Draco, who seemed to seethe with anger. 

"That was Neville Longbottom, he's being specially trained by Dumbledore because the Light think the idiot's a hero of something." Draco explained, face scrunched up in irritation. Auntie 'Cissa pinched his ear, frowning in disapproval. Draco nearly yelped, but seemed to catch himself in time.

"That was  _future heir_ Longbottom, and it would behoove you not to talk like this in public when there's a  _war_ going on." She scolded him quietly. Draco turned pink and lowered his gaze in submission. But a tug on Harry's hand had him glancing up into Mother's dark eyes, unusually serious. 

"Watch out for that boy, little bat." Bella said quietly, before breaking the eye contact and dropping his hand, muttering about "another one of Dumbledore's chosen ones." Harry didn't understand, but he knew his Mother well enough not to ask. Their mother's headed up to the counter, leaving the 11 year olds alone among the shelves. Seeing Harry blink in surprise, eyes following his Mother, Draco grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him down an aisle, starting up a commentary about the ingredients he saw. Harry squeezed his hand in thanks, a small smile quirking his lips as he watched his childhood friend attempt to take his mind off of things. Draco really was the best. 

The minute Bella and Narcissa finished their business they hurried the boy's out of the shop towards their last stop, neither woman comfortable being in Diagon Alley for long, especially not with their children. Ollivander's Wand Shop reminded Harry of his Father's private office, cluttered with wand boxes instead of paperwork and books but just as dimly lit and stuffy. The shop was dustier though, and Harry couldn't figure out why the only acceptable wand shop in England looked like no one had stepped foot in there for decades. Auntie 'Cissa looked around in disgust, gloved hands clasped firmly in front of her. Ollivander himself reminded Harry of some of his Lord's more eclectic followers, but he knew for a fact the odd old man was on the Light side. 

Draco went first, and only took two tries before he found his wand, his face lighting up in delight and triumph. He proudly waved it around to show Auntie 'Cissa, who quicky plucked it away from him with a wary look, afraid he'd light the place on fire by accident. Harry went next, staring into the milky eyes of the store owner as the man muttered to himself.

Half an hour later a pile of boxes surrounded them, and his Mother perched bored ontop of a stable one as Ollivander peered at Harry in a undeclared staring contest. Harry was winning, Ollivander kept blinking as if he wasn't aware of the rules. Or maybe only Harry was playing. The Malfoys had left after the 12th wand fizzled in his hand, and he was growing tired as well. He heaved a sigh and tossed another reject back into it's box, looking back up at Ollivander in expectation. But the old man wasn't holding another box, instead was looking at him oddly, like Harry was a strangely difficult puzzle. 

"I wonder.....wait right here." He hurried into the back room, ragged robes kicked up behind him. A moment later he returned with another box, eyes alight in curiosity and excitement as he came to a stop where he had stood before.  Harry eyed it, interested.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Lestrange. It just so happens that the phoenix who's tail-feather resides in this wand gave another feather... just one other." He rasped, hushed like it was a truly tantalizing secret. He opened to box to reveal a perfectly ordinary wand. Harry reached in, almost hesitant, sure that this would be his wand due to how the old man was acting.

When he wrapped a hand around it and pulled it out, it pulsed in his hand for a brief moment, the core singing at him. And then with a loud noise, the wand cracked right down the middle, wood splintering at the contact with his magic. Ollivander jumped, eyes wide in surprise. Harry caught sight of the glint from the center of the wand - the phoenix feather core winked at him, still calling. While Ollivander wasn't looking Harry tugged the feather out from the wood and pocketed it, before sheepishly placing the broken wood back into the box, apologizing to the distraught looking man. 

Eventually Harry found a fit; a red oak, dragon heartstring wand with a handle detailed with carved scales. It reminded him of Nagini, though it was likely meant to be a reference to it's core. The wand was warm and thrumming in his hand, filling him with a sense of focus and comfort. He left happy, wand and stolen feather stored in his pocket, his Mother teasing him about how cold the wand-maker had been after Harry destroyed his wand.

"We'll have to buy wands outside of London now, since you've traumatized the only legal wandmaker around!" She jokingly teased him, leading him down the street once more. He barley paid attention, body alight with anticipation as they near Knockturn Alley. Mother's always denied him before, saying he was too young to go inside. But now....

She looked around before they entered, making sure no one important was watching. Then, she stalked ahead through the alley entrance, heels clicking confidently as she lifted her chin. And as he stepped over the threshold, the desolate street transformed before his eyes. The rundown cobblestone street was new and filled with more people than he had seen just seconds before. The buildings were in well-kept condition, Gothic and Victorian styles lending an air of sinister intentions to the Alley. It was dusk, here, sun no where to be seen and charmed lanterns lighting the way. The shabbily dressed hags and store owners of before were no where to be seen, instead well dressed wizards did their shopping alongside noble looking vampires holding expensive looking parasols. Many faces were masked under magic, but his Mother didn't bother casting any spells on their own. She just continued walking, glancing at the store names casually. Whispers and stares followed them, the respectful awe they received as an Inner Circle family more noticeable than usual. Harry stood up straighter, schooling his expression as he realized how closely they were watched. 

"How..?" He asked Mother quietly, glancing up at her. She looked relaxed and at home on the surface, the manic light in her eyes more pronounced. Dangerous. 

"Lots of tricky warding and spells. The Diagon Alley you saw before is still there, but once we passed through the ward it detected our Lord's mark on my flesh and transported us into a pocket of space the Dark Lord created. The Dark's own Diagon Alley, befitting the pure bloods who do business here. There are stores, a few restaurants, access to Gringotts, and the Dark Lord's Manor." She pointed to a gleaming building in the distance, a large structure that reminded Harry of the St Giles Cathedral. People streamed in and out, dressed in dark, formal clothes. It's beautiful, tall and imposing with light brick contrasting dark glass and accents. Black tapestries fluttered in the slight wind, displaying an image of the Dark Mark in startling green, dark and deep. Harry's lips parted in awe, eyes wide, but his Mother hurried him into a shop.

"This is a wand shop." He realized, blinking in surprise at the much neater store shelves, a board above the desk showing off the woods and cores, and one below it displaying stones.

"You'll need a different wand for your home studies, Harry. One not sold and regulated by the Ministry." His Mother explained, as if he was slow. He resented that, though admittedly he hadn't thought of his home studies. 

A young woman stood behind said desk, pale as moonlight with dark brown hair falling in waves around her delicate shoulders. Her eyes were nearly black and her lips were a startling ruby red. She wore a black slim dress, with loose and flowing lace sleeves and velvet detailing. A velvet cloak hung from her shoulders, hood down and fabric pushed back as she flipped through a dusty tomb. 

She looked up when the door chimed, closing her book and smiling at them. "Lady Lestrange, a pleasure to see you again. Master Valerius is attending business at the moment, he wont be in today." She chimed, voice lulling but faintly accented. European for sure, but from near Hungary. It was too faint to be sure where exactly though. Harry was more distracted by the sharp fangs he could see in her mouth. Vampire. 

"There's no need to bother him, Antanasia. I'm simply shopping for a wand today, for my son." Bella assured her, letting go of Harry's hand. Harry bobbed his head in respect, smiling at the immortal. Antanasia smiled back at him, friendly as she put her book aside and stepped out from behind the counter.

"Oh, he's a cutie! So young and fresh!" She held her hand out to him. "I am Antanasia, of the Sparrow Clan, bound to the Valerius family."

He took her hand and bowed his head over it, "Pleased to meet you, Antanasia. I am Harry Adrian Lestrange, future heir to the most Ancient and Noble House Lestrange."

A bound vampire? That was incredibly rare, an ancient tradition where vampires bound themselves to a wizarding bloodline, offering protection in exchange for blood. He wondered how long Antanasia had been bonded to the Valerius family, how many generations she had protected. 

Antanasia helped him, much like Ollivander had, grabbing boxes seemingly at random and offering them to him. The main difference was she actually put the boxes back where they belonged, instead of leaving them lying around or magically flying them away at random. It was a much shorter process this time, only three wands rejected him before he felt that soothing heat again. It was a sleek, elegant wand, thinning out from the handle and wrapping a round, smooth black stone cracked with specs of gold, like stars, in twisted branches at the tip.

"That's an excellent wand. Blackthorn wood with a phoenix feather core, and a nuummite stone. Nuumite is the oldest mineral on earth, and it is a stone of personal magic, increasing the frequency of synchronicities and luck, clairvoyance and intuition, and for those evolved enough to work with its intensity, it allows for journeying deep into the personal psyche, offering a clear vision of one's True Self. It helps to release energies trapped in the subconscious and brings the gift of inner power, healing, and self-mastery." She quoted from memory, watching Harry trace a finger across the stone. His Mother handed over the money for the wand, running a proud hand through his messy curls.

As she lead him out of the store, however, he couldn't help but wonder. "How come the wands at Ollivander's didn't have stones?"

His Mother scowled, "The Ministry banned the creation of stone wands, they claim it is Dark Magic that messes with a wizard's magical core. It's a load of bullshit though, they just feared the boosting magic of stones and crystals." She stopped suddenly, and the crowd continued flowing around them, like a rock in a stream. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look her in the eye. Her sharp nails pricked his skin, and he froze. His Mother's eyes were swirling storms of darkness, just as serious as earlier. It was uncharacteristic, and Harry felt deeply unsettled.

"Promise me you'll keep this wand hidden, Harry. You will not show anyone this wand, not Draco or Pansy, not Severus. Only your Father and I, as well as the Dark Lord, shall even _see_ this wand."

He attempted to nod, eyes wide and startled. "Of course, Mother."

Her fingers tightened, cutting into his skin and holding him still. "No, Harry, I need you to _promise_ me."

He felt like he couldn't breathe. The air was too thick, magic sour on the back of his throat. He swallowed. "I promise."

* * *

 

 The Hogwart's express was gleaming and extravagant, the seats beneath him plush and the cabin warm. Harry found it odd that the train was so red, when red was a House color. What did it say about Hogwarts, that the school used the main color of Gryffindor as it's school color. Favoritism, likely. 

The land raced by them outside the window, silent and smeared like a painting. Draco and Pansy sat next to him, loudly discussing their textbooks. He was pretty sure they were agreeing, but the wild hand movements and harsh tone made it seem like they were arguing. Across from him, Crabbe and Goyle thumb wrestled, silent except for periodical grunts. Harry had a textbook open in his lap, open to a random page he'd already read. He was pretending to read, avoiding conversation and taking comfort in the heavy weight in his lap. Really, he was slowly running his fingers over the wand holder on his right forearm, concealed under his robes. It was smooth and soft, black Dragon hide engraved with runes hidden under decorative snakes. It was laced with magic, his Lord's magic, and it tingled against his fingertips pleasantly.

It was a gift from his Lord, given to him before he left the manor this morning. It concealed both his red oak wand and his blackthorn wand, a charmed pocket of space keeping his illegal wand an undetectable secret while also giving him access to it. It worked just like a normal wand holder, ejecting his wand into his palm with a flick of the wrist, but if he muttered the password -in parseltongue- before he flicked his wrist, it would eject the blackthorn wand. It was hardly the only gift he received, but it lingered in his mind like smoke, impossible to ignore. 

The door to their compartment slid open Marcus Flint leaning inside. He grinned at Harry, already dressed in his Slytherin robes. The green complimented his short dark hair and aristocratic features, but it was mostly just odd to see his summer friend dressed in something besides his gardening robes or quidditch robes. "Hey Harry, just stopping in to see you and wish you luck. I better see your butt at my table tonight, you got me?" He joked. He then glanced around the cabin, nodding at Draco and Pansy. "You guys should get your robes on, train should be stopping soon." He warned them, before sliding the door closed again. Pansy followed after him, grabbing her carry on and giving the boys a stern look.

"I'll be back in exactly 10 minutes, whether you're dressed or not." She warned. Once the door closed again the remaining boys stood, pulling their robes out of their own carry on's. There was palatable air of excitement, all of them shrugging out of their shirts and trousers to tug on the slacks and button-ups. Harry tugged the knit vest over his head, dislodging his glasses and causing them to sit crooked on his face. His hair was wild and it took him a few tries to correctly tuck his shirt in.

"-Did you know Merlin was said to have gone to Hogwarts? The alumni of this school-" Draco was rambling, face alight with excitement as he tightened his black tie and smoothed down his blond hair. He cut off, noticing Harry struggling clumsily with his own tie. He batted Harry's hands away and grabbed it himself, making quick work of the tie.

"Honestly Harry, it's ridiculous you don't know how to tie a tie by now." Draco scolded him. Harry just shrugged, content to let the mother-hen do as he pleased. Pansy barged in just as Draco released Harry, her plaid skirt swishing around her thighs as she searched the room for anyone in a state of undress. The train screeched to a stop simultaneously, sending all of them stumbling a step.

Pansy grinned, clapping her hands together. "All ready, then?"

Draco tossed Harry his robe, shrugging his own on, and they were hurried out of the train with the rest of the rambunctious crowd. Harry ran his fingers over his wand holder again as they are ushered into boats by a giant of a man with an unkempt beard and ratty clothes. Harry stepped into his gracefully, followed by Draco. Draco helped Pansy into the rocking wooden boat, and behind her Daphne Greengrass appeared, holding out her hand expectantly. Harry helped her in with a sigh, grinning when she glared at him.

"There you three are! If I didn't know any better I'd think you were avoiding me!" Daphne exclaimed, squinting suspiciously at Pansy. Pansy shrugged, looking unrepentant. 

"You sat with Terry Boot, you know I can't stand him." Pansy explained, scooting over and letting Draco sit down. Daphne took a seat across from her, shoving Harry in the process. He scooted over as well. The boats started moving, causing startled shrieks to erupt among the sea of first years. Daphne smoothed out her skirt, turning to look at the castle but instead catching sight of Harry. His eyes widened, body tensing. Uh-oh.

"Harry Lestrange, what is that bird nest on your head? Surely not the hair of a future heir?" She asked him dangerously. He gulped. Daphne grabbed him by the arm and hauled him closer, twisting sideways in her seat as she grabbed a silver comb from her robe pocket. She started attacking the curls with it, making Harry bite down a yelp. 

"Come on, Daphne, you and I both know it's never going to do what you want!" He pleaded, but she continued even as they were both aware it wouldn't do a bit of difference.

"Sit up straight, Harry! Slouching is for poor people!" Pansy scolded him, crossing her arms. Harry sighed, unsure why the girls were always on his case. Demons, the both of them.

Draco laughed as they pinched and prodded at him, sealing his own fate. Both girls paused, and turned to look at him. Draco straightened up, putting a 'holier-than-thou' look on his face. His hair was slicked down, his tie and robes were neat, he had nothing to fear. Right?

Wrong. Both girls descended on him, Pansy wiping a bit of chocolate of his cheek while Daphne complained about how dry his skin was, and how he had enough wax in his hair to start a candle making business. Harry grinned fondly at his friends, but gasps from nearby boats caught his attention. Everyone was staring at the looming castle in front of them, Hogwarts glittering in the night like a dream. It was breathtaking, even Harry could admit that, caught in it's allure like everyone else. Silence fell on them, everyone taking in the place they'd call home for the next 7 years.

And then a loud  _splash_ behind them caught their attention, a boat of three yelling as they were splashed. A head bobbed up to the surface, a first year hollering his head off. Harry laughed, light and joyful, Draco joining in. Pansy snickered while Daphne muffled her giggles behind her hand. It spreads contagiously, the first year in the water shaking from the cold and bright red from embarrassment.

 

They were left to wait in the Great Hall, in front of large wooden doors that towered above them. Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Daphne clump near the door, making a tight circle to keep others out. They were discussing Daphne's Father, who had come down with a bought of illness.

"The healer said he was recovering nicely, and that by the end of the month he would be as right as rain, no side affects. Which is quite the accomplishment with how long it usually lasts." Daphne explained.

Suddenly, a white apparition lunged out of the stone wall, startling nearly everyone. Pansy screamed, and she was hardly the only one. Harry instinctively went to unsheathe his wand when he was whacked into from behind, causing him to grunt and drop his arm. He turned to find out who did it, finding a red haired boy turning as well, an apology on his lips.

"Blimey, I'm sor-" The boy started, looking apologetic. He must have backed into Harry in surprise. But the boy caught sight of Draco next to him and stopped, scowling fiercely.

Draco, on the other-hand, looked gleeful. "Weasel, I see you've upgraded from second hand clothes to a third hand uniform! You realize family heirlooms are usually something worth keeping, right?" He sneered. Ah, Ronald Weasley. If Draco was to be trusted then Weasley was the devil. Harry wasn't even sure when Draco had met Weasley, or when he had interacted with him. All he knows is one day when they were younger Draco had started talking about him and hadn't yet stopped. 

Weasley was turning red, so red that his abundance of freckles were disappearing. "You and your goon should watch where you're going, Malfoy." He bit back. 

"Don't talk about him like that!" Draco growled, stepping forward threateningly, grabbing his wand. 

"You ran into us!" Pansy shrilled behind him, Daphne grabbing her arm to keep her in place. 

Weasley reached for his own wand, fuming, but a boy they hadn't noticed behind him spoke up, everyone's heads turning to look at him instead.

"It's you again." Longbottom was staring at Harry, a strange look on his face. Harry wasn't sure what it meant. "Who are you?"

"Harry Lestrange, future heir to the most Ancient and Noble House of Lestrange." Harry introduced himself, tipping his chin up to look down his nose at the boy. Weasley's face went white, grip on his wand going loose. Longbottom's expression, however, went stony. He stepped closer, right up into Harry's space. Harry tensed, ready for a fight, fingers twitching.

"You're parents are murderers." Longbottom hissed.

Harry wasn't expecting that. "Excuse me?"

This only made the other boy angrier, "Your parents are murderers, and they tortured my mom and dad insane."

Everyone around them was silent, the group of students pale and tense. Around them the rest of the first years continued to chatter with each other and the ghosts, but it was all white noise to Harry. His face went cold and blank, only a whisper of a smirk left. 

"Then why aren't my parent's in Azkaban?" He asked. Longbottom seemed surprised, caught unbalanced. 

"The Ministry can't prove it, but I know the truth." He insisted. 

"So you've got no proof?"

Longbottom spluttered, face nearly as red as Weasley's had been. Harry stepped closer, a pleasant smile on his face but danger pouring off of him. His eyes narrowed, still smiling.

"I'd be careful throwing around wild accusations if I was you, Longbottom. It'll make you very unpopular."

Harry stepped back, and the doors to the Great Hall swing open. McGonagall stepped through, ordering the students to follow her in an orderly manner. Harry fell in step with Draco, Pansy and Daphne close behind them as they were swept up the flow of students. Draco shot one last glare at Weasley, despite looking a bit pale himself. 

"Our Lord isn't going to be pleased that you started something with Longbottom." Draco hissed worriedly at him, once they were out of earshot. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the girls, but they were pretending not to hear. Smart girls.

Harry looked forward again, firmly arguing, "He would have preferred I stand up for myself, instead of letting myself get walked over like a quivering Hufflepuff." Harry hoped. 

The worn hat in the center of the hall opened it's mouth and began to sing. Everyone fell silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, let me know what you think! Next chapter is the time skip so child Harry is no more!  
> Also follow me on Tumblr, where I talk about updates, post (bad) aesthetics, and answer asks. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stardustpens


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